


Be the Only Alien On Your Planet

by calibratingentropy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Gen, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, planet swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys Lalonde and Varrai Makara have something in common, although they don't know it. It's so hard being the only alien on your home planet, and that's not even counting the complications the Game brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be the Aliens

**Author's Note:**

> Repost and unanoning for an ongoing Kink Meme fill. The original thread with prompt is [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/12138.html?thread=24402794#t24402794)
> 
> Rhys means ardent and Varrai is a Tamil word meaning precipice (with an extra r for letters), that is also part of the name of a goat.

**== > Be the alien**

Your name is Rhys Lalonde and today is your thirteenth birthday. It's a very important day, but not directly because it's your birthday. No, it's important because Mom has let you fly out to Washington to spend a week with your very best friend forever (and ever, and ever, the end) as a present. You've never danced in excitement so hard before hearing the announcement. A week with your dearest friend right there to touch and hear and-- You should probably try to calm down before you knock off your hoodie and "headphones" and no doubt shock everyone in the airport. This is, of course, the best present _ever_ from your Mom, because it's been so long since the customary two weeks during summer break that you're being driven literally crazy this time. It's so hard being a kid and frightfully dependent. It's hard and sometimes even Mom doesn't understand. But your own unfortunate psychological issues aside, you live a very happy life. 

Most of the year you live in New York, residing comfortably away from civilization in a very well stocked (and fortified, for some reason) house with your Mom, who is very often drunk out of her mind, but you love her anyway. She has a bad habit of spoiling you with useless gifts when all you really wish is that she was sober enough to spend quality bonding time with you more often. The worst issue between you is your on-going strife over her alcohol and that is currently at a stalemate. 

(You tried drinking once, as a mother-son bonding exercise, and recovered from the resulting blackout to find the walls of your room covered in paint and animal blood, along with a team of carpenters repairing the damage to the house. You suspect to this day that the disappearance of several of your Mom's unusual pet cats is related to the incident. _Fucking never ever again._ )

Your hatred of alcohol can't be quantified, and is only equaled by your equally passionate love for painting and music. You discovered years ago that they had some effect (not quite enough, never enough) towards calming your disturbingly violent and angry impulses that have only grown as you've gotten older and so pursue them both with steadfast devotion. Your other hobbies include amateur psychology, folklore and mythology, and horror films. You also like procedural crime dramas, but mostly just for the bodies. Your morbid interest in taking apart bodies is something you try very hard not to indulge in, unless the body is already dead, in which case, why waste it? You keep your exceptionally macabre collection of preserved pieces well away from prying eyes, of course. No one would understand, probably not even Mom.

Recently, you've also encountered some problems of a kind that isn't actually related to your unstable brain-chemistry (or so the laboratory's therapist claimed, but medication only made things infinitely worse) at all. You've been beset by a whole group of trolls. Namely internet trolls harassing you and your friends on Pesterchum, and as often as they claim to be actual trolls and that you're one of them, you know better than to believe them. Even though you want to believe them very, very badly. But one of them let slip he was a hacker, and the laboratory's files on you have been leaked before. They were always very clear on one fact above all others:

You are, after all, the only member of whatever species you _actually_ are that's ever been discovered by science. 

**== > Be the alien**

Wait, but--

**== > Be the _other_ alien**

Very well. Your name is Varrai Makara, and you are finally six sweeps old. Currently you're wasting your night waiting for your lusus, who is almost guaranteed not to show up and you hate him for it. All the others you know (except one, and she doesn't really count) have an attentive and _present_ lusus, no matter how violent or unpredictable. You suspect it's because of your blood. Your hateful, disgusting, unnatural blood. Your lusus, of course, has a normal hue, and therefore you don't share a color like charge and guardian should. It's probably a miracle (which you steadfastly don't believe in) that your lusus took you in at all and gave you the minimum of care during your early wigglerhood so you didn't do something unfortunate like starve to death. Or drown. 

That is part of the reason that you still wait every night for him, even though you justifiably hate him for his neglect. For all his many, infuriating faults, he took you in in spite of your blood. He even saved you _from_ your blood once, in an incident which still haunts and frustrates you to this day. You hide your blood color with a false one over text, of course. You learned that lesson the hard way shortly after you first discovered ATL Messenger. A seadweller somehow tracked your much younger self down and tried to cull you violently after talking with you and seeing that traitorous color. You still have the scars. But your lusus valiantly surged up onto the beach and took on both the troll and the troll's lusus, slaughtering both in a laudable display of protectiveness. He even stayed for many nights after, curled protectively in the surf in front of your hive, and with his long, long neck stretched up the beach so you could sleep hidden in his soft, white fur during the day. In honor of that you chose for your color the one that your blood made when mixed with his. It's far too purple for a land-dweller, even a Capricorn (though technically, it's not your sign at all because you don't have one), but you don't care and it's too late to change it and avoid suspicion anyway. 

Thinking about this would send you into a furious fit, but you've only just gotten out of your recooperacoon, and are still too buzzed to work up any kind of strong feelings at all besides your usual irritation with absolutely everything. You're well aware that sleeping in Sopor does funny things to a non-troll's head, but stopping does things like making you nearly hallucinate your way off a cliff or into deep water, so you can't safely quit. Diluting the mix has kept you from suicidal decisions like advertising your blood color to the world again, but it also makes you act like a huge, aggressive bitch. Have you mentioned you _hate_ the cravings? Because you hate them more than anything, and you hate most things.

It's no surprise that you don't have many friends, but most nights you can't bring yourself to care. You have your Alternian history and reading and writing poetry (except for slam poetry which you're awful at and can only enjoy listening to) to keep you occupied. And a secret love-hate affair with romcoms. This is _entirely_ your closest friend's fault, but he is the only one who knows your dreadful secret and you are both good for each other. So you suppose you can allow one embarrassing hobby for the sole purpose of sharing it with him. The movies make good fodder for your epic romantic ballads anyway. All in all, as much as everything annoys the hell out of you all the time, you suppose you could qualify yourself as reasonably content, and you are expecting your friend to come online any minute now to express well-wishes in his own ornery way. If you believed in Serendipity (which you definitely, secretly do) you would say you were hatched for each other. Of course you're both too stubborn (but not afraid, never that) to actually out and _say_ moirail at each other, so there's also that complication.

You just wish, especially on nights like this, that you weren't the only member of your species in the entire Alternian Empire.


	2. Be the Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is parts 2 and 3 of the Kink Meme fill.
> 
> Varrai's color (#63024c) is somewhere between Eridan's and Feferi's, which is pretty much asking for trouble. It's supposed to represent what bright red and indigo would look like mixed and then dried a little. She uses sharpened troll-horns for her weapons which as Karkat mentioned, is pretty much the epitome of creepy as fuck for trolls. Also, Rhys uses his actual blood color instead of his original text color.

**== > Be the friend **

Which-- Oh fuck it. Your name is Karkat Vantas and you don't give a globefondling damn if you aren't the friend they meant (whoever " _they_ " fucking are). You spare a moment to wonder what in nub-blistering _hell_ that thought just was but you're kind of terribly busy right now so you don't waste much time on it. What are you up to? Why, getting your sponge-damaged, arrogantly suicidal best friend (more like best enemy, the little bitch. Except not really) to stop _trying_ to get herself miserably culled before she's even old enough to get officially culled. Because she will be when it finally comes time to leave this miserable, aggravating planet and join the Alternian forces of conquest. And if you're completely honest you know you fucking will be too. Culled for being disgusting, offensive to every sensibility and even nature, candy-blooded mutants. Even if she's technically, probably not a troll at all, but you would be so completely unsurprised that the level of your unsurprise would transcend reality if she was just even more of a mutant than you are. That's what you're doing, even if you already know it's as hopeless as trying to empty out the entire fucking ocean with your bare hands. 

You've known each other for most of three sweeps now, and you still feel like you need to empty your nutrition sack when you remember how you met. The sheer disgust that the memory drags up from your gullet is astounding (even if it's really just helpless, sick fear). You were surfing through the trolltag lists on ATL Messenger because you were bored (definitely _not_ the least bit lonely) and suddenly right in front of your ganderbulbs was bright, indecent, damning _red_. Not a proper rust-blood red, but the very same shade beneath your skin that your lusus had always, always skreed at you to never show anyone ever. _Ever_ , on threat of claws to your fucking head. You don't even know what possessed you, aside from sheer stupidity, but you started trolling them and basically screamed your head off in the most embarrassing manner. Finding out that she wasn't joking but actually shared your color was... something that you really don't want to think about right now. The level of complication would take nights of explaining. Moving on! The simple version is that you've been trolling each other regularly ever since. Except for nearly a perigee when she was nearly culled for her blood, which you'd think any _sensible_ troll would take as a sign from on high, or destiny, or whatever the fuck, to finally start using anonymous grey but _no_ , she had to switch to purple. Pretending to be a highblood when you most unequivocally aren't won't just get a troll culled but tortured first with extreme prejudice. And by extreme, you mean _extreme_. So because her being cruelly tortured could end up getting _you_ culled (and not because you might be incidentally more than a little pale for her), you are going to try yet again to get her to use a less dangerous color. And just maybe, making it to six sweeps in spite of abject stupidity is something that deserves some acknowledgement.

So you fire up Gnext, and curse how fucking long it takes to load up. Maybe you'll actually cave and try out that new beta for Trollian soon. You may just be the last of your friends to give in, but pointlessly following the masses like a bleatbeast is stupid (and you hate that Sollux knew about it before you did).

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling transposedCastigation [TC]

CG: CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING IT ANOTHER SWEEP WITHOUT YOUR MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF ASTOUNDING STUPIDITY RISING UP AND FUCKING STRANGLING YOU, VARRAI.   
TC: Good evEning tO you toO, best fRiend.   
TC: I suppoSe i shoUld thaNk you fOr the SwEETESt well-wIshes aLso.   
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THE PATRONIZING HOOFBEAST SHIT.  
CG: WE BOTH KNOW YOU'RE NOT AS PURPLE AS YOU CLAIM TO BE. AND HOW YOU MIGHT AS WELL GO UP TO THE DRONES, GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND BEG TO BE FUCKING CULLED.  
CG: SERIOUSLY, DO YOU WANT TO BE CULLED? IS THAT IT? DO YOU WANT TO HAVE YOUR DIGESTIVE TUBULAR ORGANS DRAGGED OUT OF YOUR SCREAMING CARCASS THROUGH YOUR WASTE CHUTE WITH A BARBED CULLING FORK? ARE YOU REALLY THAT MUCH OF A FUCKING INSANE MASOCHIST?   
TC: HonestLy, whilE i apprEciate Your crEativiTy in comIng up wIth sucH gory   
TC: Are barBed culLing foRks reaLly a thIng?   
CG: HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW? AND OH MY GOD.  
CG: YOU JUST WOKE UP, DIDN'T YOU?   
CG: YOUR FUCKING DAMAGED SPONGE IS SO FULL OF SOPOR THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN FINISH A SENTENCE.  
CG: WHY DO I EVEN TALK WITH YOU AGAIN?   
TC: I don't kNow. why The fucK DO you Talk to Me?  
TC: You kNow fUckiNg weLl thAt i lOse tHe thRead Of coNverSatiOn eaSily, WortHlesS gruBstaIn.   
CG: WHOA, OKAY. SHUT UP AND JUST BREATHE FOR A MINUTE.  
CG: I CAN SEE YOUR WORTHLESS AND LAME QUIRK SLIPPING. DON'T THINK I CAN'T!  
CG: WHY WOULD YOU EVEN GET UPSET? YOU KNOW I WASN'T REALLY  
CG: AAAAGH. I HATE YOUR HAIR TRIGGER FLIPOUTS SOMETIMES.   
TC: Sorry. i Know yoU were jUst  
TC: Umm, whaT were wE talkiNg abouT again?   
CG: FUCK! I HATE HOW SPACEY YOU ARE.   
CG: NEVERMIND, IT ISN'T IMPORTANT. JUST THE USUAL HOOFBEAST SHIT WE ALWAYS ARGUE ABOUT.   
CG: NOW THAT YOU'RE BACK TO SOMETHING LESS FRIGHTENINGLY UNSTABLE, LET'S FINISH GOING THROUGH THIS UTTERLY POINTLESS SONG AND DANCE.   
CG: VARRAI, YOU KNOW THAT COLOR OF YOURS IS FUCKING HAZARDOUS NOT ONLY TO YOUR HEALTH BUT MINE BY PROXY. EVEN IF WE DON'T KEEP RECORDS OF OUR DAMNING AND EMOTIONALLY DRAINING TROLLOGS, THE DRONES ARE EQUIPPED TO HACK AND EVEN SOLLUX COULDN'T KEEP THE NOOKLICKERS OUT. FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR ABILITY TO BREATHE AND WALK AND THINK, EVEN IF YOU SUCK BULGE AT IT, PLEASE START USING GREY.  
CG: VARRAI?  
CG: DAMN IT ALL TO THE COLDEST DEPTHS OF THE WATERIEST HELL. WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME?  
CG: VARRAI, IF YOU'VE JUST SPACED OUT AGAIN I WILL FUCKING PULL OUT YOUR CALCIFIED SUPPORT COLUMN AND BLUDGEON YOU THE REST OF THE WAY TO DEATH WITH IT.   
CG: DON'T FUCKING SCARE ME LIKE THIS.   
CG: VARRAI COME ON STOP THIS ANSWER ME PLEASE DAMN IT  
CG: VARRAI DON'T DO THIS I FUCKING WARNED YOU VARRAI DAMN IT DON'T YOU DARE BE DEAD OR DYING OR FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK   
TC: ow fuck   
CG: WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED? HOW BADLY ARE YOU HURT? IF THIS IS A JOKE, I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF, I SWEAR IT.   
TC: I'm not bAdly huRt, i thiNk. but i Have a nIce new Pair of Horns fOr my coLlectiOn. they'Re very Sharp.  
TC: Sorry fOr worrYing yoU. i was sEen.   
CG: IS YOUR THINKPAN EVEN FUNCTIONING? HOW IMPOSSIBLY STUPID COULD YOU BE TO GO OUT ON THE BEACH WITHOUT YOUR MAKEUP ON? THAT GOES SO FAR BEYOND SUICIDAL THAT IT LOOPS AROUND, PASSES IT AGAIN, AND BITES SUICIDAL'S SPINAL CREVASSE ON THE SECOND PASS.   
TC: That waS a partIcularLy coloRful meTaphor.   
TC: But no, iT was my Hair. i jUst remEmbereD that i Should Have dyEd it at Least a PerigeE ago.  
TC: I was abLe to guT the inTerlopEr with My prevIous acQuisitIon. the LeadinG edge nEeds moRe sharPening Though.   
CG: YOU ARE COMPLETELY HELPLESS, I SWEAR. DO I HAVE TO COME TO YOUR HIVE AND LEAVE COLORFUL LITTLE STICKY NOTES ALL OVER YOUR WALLS AND UGLY FACE TO HELP YOU REMEMBER TO DO BASIC THINGS LIKE EAT AND DYE YOUR HAIR THE RIGHT COLOR SO YOU DON'T GET SERVED DEATH FOR DINNER?  
CG: AND I THOUGHT WE TALKED ABOUT HOW I NEVER WANTED TO HEAR YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR CREEPY, MORBID AS FUCK STRIFE SPECIBUS BECAUSE IT MAKES MY AURACULAR SPONGE CLOTS WANT TO VOMIT BLOOD. YOU ARE A DEPRAVED, UNSTABLE TROLL FOR EVEN THINKING OF HORNKIND AS A VIABLE SPECIBUS.   
TC: It is a pErfectLy good SpecibUs, and tHe psycOlogicAl impaCt is prEciselY why i uSe it.  
TC: Also, thAt woulD have mOre effEct if i Was a trOll.   
CG: ARRRRGH! YOU SICKEN ME. YOU MAKE EVERY MEAL I'VE EVER EATEN TRY TO SURGE BACK UP THROUGH TIME AND MY PROTEIN CHUTE IN ORDER TO SPLATTER THE WALLS OF MY HIVE WITH STINKING VOMIT.  
CG: I TAKE IT BACK. YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HIVE SO YOU'RE AWAY FROM THE SEA-DWELLING BASTARDS THAT TRY TO CULL YOU EVERY TIME THEY SEE YOU. AND THE FUCKING BLUE BLOODS THAT THINK YOU'RE A SUICIDAL SEA-DWELLER YOURSELF AND TRY TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU LIVING ON THE FUCKING BEACH TO MURDER YOU.  
CG: PACK UP YOUR SYLLADEX. IT SHOULD ONLY TAKE YOU A COUPLE NIGHTS' TRAVEL, AND I CAN PROBABLY CONVINCE MY LUSUS TO COME WITH ME TO MEET YOU HALFWAY.   
TC: I wish i Could, kArkat.   
CG: WHY DO YOU EVEN STAY? HE'S FUCKING ABANDONED YOU.  
CG: YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HIM IN OVER TWO PERIGEES AND YOU'VE ALWAYS HATED HIM.   
TC: You teLl me alMost evEry nigHt that You hatE yours Too.   
CG: SHUT UP. THAT'S DIFFERENT AND YOU KNOW IT. MINE IS STILL RIGHT FUCKING HERE.   
TC: When he Shows uP again I'll telL him i'm LeavinG. then i'Ll come To your Hive.   
CG: OR IF HE DOESN'T SHOW UP WITHIN THE NEXT PERIGEE. OTHERWISE YOU'LL BE WAITING UNTIL YOU DO END UP A MUTANT-RED SMEAR ON THE SAND.   
TC: Two. givE me thaT.   
CG: FINE. TWO PERIGEES AND NOT A NIGHT MORE.   
CG: AND YOU'D BETTER BELIEVE I'LL BE REMINDING YOU OF THIS EVERY SINGLE NIGHT UNTIL THEN.   
TC: I'll be hOlding You to tHat, karKat.  
TC: But i shOuld go And takE care oF the blEeding.   
CG: FINE. TRY NOT TO DIE.

You sign off and nearly pull your hair out in frustration. Dealing with Varrai is _completely exhausting_ and sometimes you hate her so much (only because you're worried). But you're also happy too, for some unexplained reason (that you just won't admit), Finally she agreed to at least move away from the ocean where she is in the most danger. Two perigees is a fucking long time for everything to go wrong and get you both killed, but a deadline is a deadline. Maybe once she finally comes to your hive you can help her get off the Sopor for good. Though that does make you wonder where the fuck she'll sleep if she does. Recooperacoons would probably be uncomfortable as hell without slime. But you've got two perigees to think that over, and other things to do tonight. You might actually be feeling a little cheerful as you turn away from the computer to go about your night. 

**== > Be the best friend **

What the fuck? You already _are_ the best fucking friend. Who the fuck could possibly miss that?

Psych! You actually have no idea why you just did that, but you are reaping the rewards. The sweet, succulent rewards. It's always good to feel your Prankster's Gambit go up. Your name is John Egbert and you are the best prankster. It is you. But today, you have something more important to do than pranks. You're waiting in the airport with your Dad for one of your best friends to get off his flight. Your _alien_ best friend, and even after knowing him for years now, you still get the best thrill. How many kids could claim to have an alien (well, he could be a mutant or something, but you can ignore that) as one of their bestest friends? Only you. It's like out of one of your favorite movies, only you didn't really discover him in your back yard after a crash landing or anything. 

You don't actually know the exact circumstances, but it ended up with you and your Dad sharing lunch post a spectacular caper with a very elegant lady and her son who was curled up inside a hoodie that was a lot too big. You know now that the hoodie was to hide his horns, but little you decided that enough was enough right then and there and that you were going to befriend this tragically shy kid. You grabbed his hand, introduced yourself, and pulled him off to go play. That was that! Best friends from that day on. You're pretty sure your Dad and his Mom have been dating secretly since before that day, but they haven't admitted it, and it would be rude to ask. So you don't, even if you keep a keen eye out for clues. 

You've never regretted it even once. In fact, you even privately call yourself the alien whisperer, which is like the Horse Whisperer, only a million times more awesome and dashing. You've always felt bad for Rhys's Mental Troubles, which you're careful to enunciate with the Capital Letters of Importance, but for some reason that's likely the Power of Friendship (which isn't a shitty power, and someday you'll prove it to Dave) you've always been really good at calming him down. It's gotten harder and more involved lately, often requiring the judicious application of mangrit and bear hugs with long talks about what's bothering him, but you've never failed to calm him and cheer him up. It is simply the best feeling to see him back to his cheerful and relaxed self and know it's you that made that possible when even medication only made him flip out and act even worse. 

There's just one tiny problem that's cropped up in the past year or so. Rhys has gotten... preemptive about the hugs. It didn't used to bother you at all, but now that you're growing up and coming into the secrets of manhood, sorry, Secrets of Manhood, it's a little awkward. Friend hugs are still the best things ever, but you're not so sure he thinks they're just friend hugs anymore. Before he left after the customary summer visit, he grabbed hold of you and just buried his face in your hair (he'd already put his makeup on, and it got _all over_ ) for five whole minutes. You're pretty sure there's a time limit on friend hugs and that it's shorter than five minutes and you really don't want to lead him on. If he likes boys, you're perfectly chill with it and you'll cheer him on, but you have the most happily flustered little crush on a girl in your class, so you definitely don't like boys at all. You'll just have to gather up all of your courage and talk to him about it. It definitely won't go badly and send him careening off the deep end if he likes you like that because you'll still have your friendship. It won't, right? ...Right?

But the time for thinking and worrying is over, because you recognize those horns through the crowd. He can't hide them under a hoodie anymore, because they've gotten really long and curvy in the last couple years. He gets a lot of weird looks, but you two devised the most ingenious way to hide them in plain sight a while back. You adjust your Devilphones, sonic headgear for the devilishly dashing(tm), and lift your arm up in your biggest, friendliest wave. The plastic horns on yours aren't nearly as impressive as his real horns, but Devilphones are a big enough thing that people recognize the logo and don't look twice. It's brilliant. 

You can tell he's spotted you because he's suddenly speeding up, even though he keeps his head firmly down so people don't look too closely at his eyes. Then someone practically shoves him and shit-- Time to be the alien whisperer. The alien whisperer is you. 

There's a glint of metal in his gloved hand and a growl that makes the hair on your neck start standing up as he snarls out something at the man who pushed him. The man is sneering and doesn't realize that Rhys is growling and talking _at the same time_ , but you can't chance it. Time for friend intervention tactic number fourteen, the ecstatic shout and tacklehug. 

It works, and then he's hugging you back while the jerkass edges carefully away, with the scalpel finally safely put back where it belongs. Sometimes you wonder why the hell he already has a strife specibus allocated when you don't even have your sylladex in use yet. Surgicalkind is, in a word, creepy. You're pretty sure he's got a fucking bone saw in there. See? Creepy to the max.

You decide that there's no time to dawdle and practically drag him out of the airport with Dad at your heels, helpfully carting Rhys's luggage. You both climb into the back of the car and Rhys sits in the middle (if Dad wasn't here you'd bring it up _now_ ) instead of on the other side. You take a minute to admire his makeup, because that's what friends do. And, well, it stopped seeming really weird to you forever ago. He's changed it again, though he still has a kind of almost goth-emo thing going on (you'd tease, but you know _why_ he has to cover his face with paint) but he's kind of turned his face into a canvas too. Artsy and probably pretentious, but points for creativity, even if it mostly looks kind of creepy. But a lot of things about Rhys are kind of creepy and that's okay with you. You're about to crack a joke or tell him to get on his own side of the car, but then he gives you this sweet and utterly relieved looking smile and whispers how much he missed you. You can tell he really means it, and don't even complain when he grips your hand a little too tight. 

A man has to be there for his best friend, and you're definitely a man. Or becoming one.

 **== > Be the voyeur **

Lies and slander! You aren't a voyeur; you're gathering evidence. Delicious pale evidence. You didn't believe there was a troll among the human players at first, but the evidence is right there in front of your nose. And tongue, since you took a few good licks just to make absolutely sure (his blood is delicious). He's right there with the human John in his respiteblock right now, and there's all signs of a good feelings jam going on. It's really kind of intimate. Bordering on indecent. 

Edging closer and closer to obscene. You like it. But from sniffing through their timelines so far, you can guess that neither of them really knows what they're doing and how to handle this relationship they've got budding. Humans are just so _backwards_ and useless at most things. You almost feel bad for the poor, uneducated troll. You should really do your civil duty to educate him about the culture he was somehow cruelly ripped away from. He's pathetic, like a quackbeast that hatched in front of a barkbeast and then got eaten because it imprinted on a predator. It would be so easy just to troll the human and give them both some pointers on a proper moirallegence. 

But messing with them will be more fun! 

**== > Be the uneducated troll **

You're not a troll, but you don't care right now. You're feeling really good because talking to John always helps you feel more balanced. You even finally spilled your urges to take apart bodies, and yeah, you're aware that that really creeped him out, but you got a hug out of it. He's trying to be understanding and that's what matters most. You can tell he feels really awful for you and your issues, and in most people this would send you into a spitting rage, but it's John. He knows and understands that you're trying so very hard not to fall to the urges, and he does his best to help. He's the most precious person in the world to you right now. You tell him that, of course, but he gets a really weird look on his face. That can't be good, but suddenly his computer starts pinging him. Ugh. What now? Whoever the fuck it is had better be needing something vital. 

But it's not. It's a troll. Not one you recognize, but definitely a troll, just by the annoying way it types. Sure, your own special flare could be a _little_ annoying, but it's really only something you begin your lines with. You bare your teeth--fangs, really--at the screen and tell John to just preemptively block it. He doesn't, of course, and you know that blocking does fuck all. It just keeps laughing and calling you two obscene. The hell with just letting it play with your heads like this. 

You nudge John over so you're sharing the chair and commandeer the keyboard. It only takes a second to fire up another chat client and set up a room. 

You are now pestering chums in room Fuck off troll.  
tempestuousTransplant [TT] has entered the room.  
ghostlyTrickster [GT] has entered the room.   
gallowsCallibrator [GC] has entered the room.

TT: & ## 5/8 What are you even talking about? There's nothing #obscene# about me and John.  
GT: rhys, come on. don't feed the troll, right?   
GT: there's nothing to get all ## about.  
GC: YOU TWO 4R3 D3L1C1OUS BUT WH4T DO3S TH3 & ## 5/8 M34N? >:?   
TT: & ## B Minor. Even a kid knows THAT. Just how STUPID are YOU, that you can't even SEE things right in front OF your FACE?  
GC: H3H3H3H3! MUS1C? HOW CULTUR3D  
GC: BUT 4LSO V3RY V3RY RUD3! 1 C4NT S33 4NYTH1NG B3C4US3 1M BL1ND  
GT: whoa, calm down.   
GT: you're randomly all capsing again. don't make me friend hug you, because i will!!!  
TT: & ## I could use that hug. I really COULD.  
TT: & bb 4/4 You're the best, thanks.  
GT: that's the bb i was hoping to see.   
GC: OH MY GOD  
GC: YOU TWO 4R3 B31NG SO P3RV3RT3D, G3TT1NG P4L3 L1K3 TH4T 1N FRONT OF 4 L4DY  
GC: >:]  
GC: > :]   
GC: >:]  
GC: DONT STOP  
TT: & ## 5/8 I will fucking #ki  
GC: WH4TS TH1S 1M T4ST1NG 4LL OV3R MY SCR33N?  
GC: L1K3 TH3 F1LTH13ST P4L3 PORN  
GC: BUT F1N4LLY TH3 D3F3ND4NT SHOWS H1S TRU3 F4C3  
GC: TH3 F4C3 OF 4N 1GNOR4NT BLOOD TR41TOR CONSORT1NG W1TH TH3 3N3MY  
GC: YOU TWO D1SGUST M3  
GC: 1F W3 3V3R M33T 1 W1LL GUT YOU 4ND L4UGH WH1L3 YOU TRY TO STUFF 34CH OTH3RS 1NS1D3S B4CK 1N 4ND BL33D TO D34TH  
GC: 1 B3T YOUR BLOOD T4ST3S L1K3 PLUM M1X3D TOG3TH3R  
GC: L1V3 P4L3 TOG3TH3R D13 P4L3 TOG3TH3R

tempestousTransplant[TT] has left the room.  
ghostlyTrickster [GT] has left the room.

GC: H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4

gallowsCalibrator [GC] has left the room.

She threatened John. She _threatened_ John. SHE THREATENED JOHN. She made him so very uncomfortable and then she threatened to disembowel him. You want to fucking _rip her apart_. You don't even know her name and you want to kill her so bad you can _taste it_. You're shaking and snarling at the screen, and John is practically straddling you, hugging you so hard it hurts. Your hands and arms are trapped between you, up against his chest, and that's probably a good thing. Otherwise, the part of you that isn't seeing fucking red is sure something would be on its way to being destroyed. 

John is talking but you can't parse what he's saying. Then he moves and slides his fingers into your hair. You flinch, but not in a bad way. Still, it takes a lot of petting before you feel like you can even think through the rage. John knows just what to do though, and he doesn't let go until you're feeling calm again. You mumble an apology against his shoulder and he asks if you're feeling okay, then you're both backing off a little in perfect sync.

His shirt might be ruined; it's covered in your facepaint. You apologize again and he says it's okay, but then he gets that look again and pulls away entirely. You let him even though you want to pull him closer. He stands in the most awkward way for a minute and then heads to the pile of blankets and pillows and a beanbag chair. Looks like you're due for a talk, and you're perfectly okay with this. Still not sure why the hell you feel so much more comfortable on a pile than anywhere else, but you've been rolling with that forever. 

You follow him over and settle in. It takes him forever before he speaks.

JOHN: okay. i've gotta be honest with you.  
JOHN: we're best friends forever but i'm not a homosexual.  
RHYS: & bb 4/4 Okay.   
JOHN: okay? that's it?  
RHYS: & bb Yeah? I have #no# idea what this has to do with anything. But it's cool. You'd be my best friend forever no matter who you liked or didn't.  
JOHN: really? i mean, of course. hahaha. what a relief.  
RHYS: & bb And now you're gonna spill and tell me what brought this on. What happened?  
JOHN: well, um, it's like this  
JOHN: you're always touching me and hugging me for a really long time and it seems super silly now  
JOHN: but i was really worried that you liked-liked me.  
JOHN: and i really didn't want to lead you on.  
RHYS: & bb That's it? Hell no! I'm not attracted to you #at all.# You're my dearest best friend forever and I can't even imagine kissing you.   
RHYS: & bb I know I'm weird, but it's like when you hug me or touch me, my head just stops the spinning and things it usually does. I feel calm and safe. I don't know #why# but that's the way it is. Like my pile thing.  
RHYS: & bb It's so dependent and it sucks, but you have #no# idea how much you help make the rage and impulses and everything shut the fuck up so I can even #think.# I don't even want to imagine what I'd be like without you.  
JOHN: oh that's great! i have no idea why i was so worried!! hahaha!  
RHYS: & bb You're okay with it, right? With hugging and things.  
RHYS: & ## 5/8 You don't have to if you aren't. You could still talk me down without touching.  
JOHN: don't switch to minor on me, mr. i can tell the difference you know!  
JOHN: and i'm great with friend hugs! i love them! but maybe could we not hug quite so long in public?  
RHYS: & bbb 3/4 Really. b^Your singing is so awful I never would have guessed.^b  
RHYS: & bbb And I'll do my best to keep it on the low down and time limited in public. Just tell me if you're ever not okay with stuff, alright?  
JOHN: pfffff don't take that tone with me. i'm a great singer, and besides you know i'm not an everything music all the time freak like you. i just play the piano.  
JOHN: and you bet i'll tell you if i'm not okay with things!  
RHYS: & bbb We really need to have a jam later and see if you've improved.  
RHYS: & bbb Ow! What was that for? Silly best friend.   
RHYS: & bbb You'll always be here, right? Just an emergency plane ride away?  
JOHN: you bet! always and forever. and you can call at any time you need to talk, day or night.  
JOHN: oh! i almost forgot. dad finally got me a cell so you don't have to call the house phone all the time. we should exchange numbers!  
RHYS: & bbb Later. Only friend hugs now.

You curl closer and John lets you, tucking his chin between your horns while you press your face to his neck and just breathe him and the calm he radiates in. As weirdly obsessive and completely way too dependant and unhealthy as it all sounds, John is really, really good for you. Screw the stupid trolls and the stupid things they say. They can't touch you and if they try, well...

You'll finally have some human bodies to take apart. No one touches John. _No one._


	3. Months In the Future, but Not Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts 4 and 5 on the Kink Meme thread.

**== >Be the future **

What? That's not-- Fine. You are the future. That abstract and impossible to concretely define concept is you. You are now everything from the moment right after the ever-changing now until the end of existence. Have fun with that.

THIS IS STUPID.

Yes, yes it is.

**== > Be future Varrai **

You are now Varrai in the future, but not too far, and you aren't crying. There are definitely no freakish crystal clear tears dripping down your face and smearing your makeup. 

Tonight is Karkat's Wriggling Day, and tomorrow night is finally the night that you promised that you would move to his hive. Your lusus still hadn't shown up as of twilight, so it's fair, even if you still went out and waited. But to pass the time, you agreed to play a game with Karkat, and it turns out that every troll you even tangentially know is playing too. The problem is, right now you don't know if you can even keep playing, in spite of the fact that Karkat and the others are depending on you. Because he just came back. 

Your lusus is back, _finally_ , but he only gives one last feeble bleat and nudges his nose further into your arms. You can tell it's his last, even if the way he goes utterly still and sags like so much dead weight wasn't an obvious sign. Your lusus came back to _die_ , bleeding out from a harpoon plunged deep into his side. The waves that are washing up around your ankles are tinted indigo, like the tears dripping onto his pale, soaked fur _should_ be, and you scream.

You scream and scream, scrambling up on his head to try to lift his eyelids and yell right into his ears. Why couldn't he have just died out to sea? Why did he have to come back _just_ to breath his last? _Why?!_

You end up leaning against his horn and sobbing as you suddenly are struck by one of the few happy memories you have of your lusus. When you were just small, before he started disappearing for longer and longer stretches of time, he let you climb up and cling to his horn while he swam slowly around the cove in front of your hive. You laughed and whooped until your stomach hurt, wet from the spray his nose kicked up, and he let you curl up against his fur until you were warm and dry again after. Remembering makes your throat close up and suddenly you hate him more than ever. 

You lash out, kicking at his horn with all of your strength, but nearly fall when it lists to the side with a horrible rending sound. A stench of sickness and rot swamps you suddenly, and the torn-cracked base of the horn doesn't even bleed. It's dry and a disgusting, putrid brackish black-green on the exposed inside. It's _old_ , you can tell without looking even closer, with the rot desiccating the nerve-filled core and probably worming its insidious way down through his skull. With a sickening lurch you realize that this was stripping away his strength and maybe even his sanity, piece by piece, over sweeps and sweeps. 

You barely make it to the wet sand before retching up your last meal. Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay and everything hurts. Then to add insult to injury the horn you kicked tumbles into the water with one last awful, sickening sound, and the surf threatens to wash it away. You scramble into the waves after it, knocking your hornband askew and washing the rest of your makeup off, but after a struggle manage to drag it up onto dry sand.

(You don't know it yet, but this act is what gives you the chance to have him back for that beautiful all too brief time, and you'll fulfil every request he makes of you as your sprite. You will complete each and every quest. All of them. You'll be the only player to do so, because all the others will focus primarily on their Echeladders, or be stopped from completing quests by others. By the time your group realizes the decided advantage completing all their quests would have given them in mastering all the nuances of their roles, it'll be far too late.)

Then your husktop chimes. Looks like Tavros has finally recovered from whatever made him sign off so suddenly in a panic and is ready to be your server player. You know how it goes already, because you were Terezi's, so you're prepared. 

...Or you would be, if everything didn't hurt so much. 

adiosToreador [AT] has begun trolling transposedCastigation [TC]

AT: uMM, i'M SORRY, fOR SIGNING OFF, lIKE i DID,  
AT: bUT MY LUSUS, tHAT IS, iT WAS HORRIBLE,   
TC: Mine juSt died Too.   
AT: oH, oH NO, i'M SORRY,  
AT: bUT, uMM, wE NEED TO CONNECT, sO YOU DON'T DIE, aLSO,   
TC: Fuck I forgOt abOut tHat. fIne, wE'll jUst  
TC: How dId he Die?   
AT: tINKERBULL?  
AT: iT WAS PRETTY AWFUL, uMM, bECAUSE HE GOT CAUGHT IN THE WHEEL OF MY FOUR WHEELED DEVICE,   
TC: Mine waS harPoonEd. fuCkinG sea DwelLers.   
AT: bUT, uMM, aREN'T YOU,  
AT: tHAT IS, yOUR COLOR IS VERY, pURPLE,   
TC: It's cOmplIcatEd anD i doN't waNt to Talk  
TC: Fuck, a mEteor jUst hit The bluFfs.   
AT: oH NO, wE SHOULD HURRY, aND CONNECT,   
TC: Yeah, coNnectiNg now.   
AT: yES, iT'S WORKING, i CAN SEE,  
AT: ,,,  
AT: uMM, vARRAI, yOU LOOK,  
AT: aRE YOUR HORNS, bROKEN,  
AT: aND THAT COLOR, iSN'T A COLOR THAT SKIN SHOULD BE, i THINK,   
TC: My  
TC: Fuck  
TC: Not onLy doeS the FuckIng uNiveRse dEcidE to tAke tHe piSs on mE by kIlliNg my LusuS but It shOves My heAd inTo thE filThy lOad gAper For a Shit FlavOred SwirLy foR aftErs.  
TC: fUCK   
AT: tHAT SOUNDED, a LOT LIKE SOMETHING kARKAT WOULD SAY,  
AT: bUT IT DOESN'T ANSWER MY QUESTION, rEALLY,  
AT: yOU DON'T LOOK VERY, tROLLISH, wHICH IS A THING TROLLS SHOULD LOOK LIKE, i THINK,   
TC: BecaUse i'M not A troLl.  
TC: We don't Know wHat i am, Or how i cAme to bE on altErnia, Or even How my lUsus adOpted mE.  
TC: I've had To hide With faKe hornS and faCepainT all my Life to Avoid bEing cuLled.   
AT: uMM, tHAT SOUNDS LIKE A STORY, tHAT IS WILD, bUT i CAN SEE, tHAT IT IS TRUE,  
AT: yOU HAVE A lOT OF SCARS, aND THEY LOOK VERY PAINFUL, mAYBE,   
TC: They doN't hurt AnymorE.  
TC: My life Is in yoUr handS now, taVros.  
TC: I'd threAten yoU, but we Both knOw you hAve the Power hEre.  
TC: What wiLl you dO, who i cAlled fRiend?   
AT: uMM, i DON'T REMEMBER YOU CALLING ME, fRIEND,  
AT: bUT i GUESS WE'VE BEEN FRIENDLY, eXCEPT WHEN YOU GET ANGRY, wHICH IS A THING YOU DO, sOMETIMES,  
AT: aND BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO LISTENS TO MY SLAM POETRY, aND EVEN TRIES TO SLAM WITH ME, sOMETIMES,  
AT: eVEN THOUGH YOU SAY YOU'RE NOT VERY GOOD, iT'S NICE TO HAVE SOMEONE TO SLAM WITH,  
AT: aND SOME OF THE ADVICE YOU GAVE, aFTER MY ACCIDENT, wAS GOOD, eVEN IF YOU SAID IT IN A WAY THAT WAS, aNGRY,  
AT: sO RIGHT NOW, i'LL HELP YOU WITH THE GAME, wHILE i THINK THINGS OVER,  
AT: aND THEN LATER, i'LL MAKE A DECISION,   
TC: Fair enOugh. i'm ImpresSed thaT you're ThinkiNg this ThrougH. stratEgy is oFten ovErlookEd.  
TC: Now staRt deplOying.   
AT: i WASN'T, tHAT IS, eVEN THOUGH i'M NOT VERY SURE, aBOUT THAT,  
AT: tHANK YOU, fOR THE COMPLIMENT,  
AT: oH, i'LL GET RIGHT ON THAT, aND DEPLOY WHAT YOU NEED, tO GET INTO THE GAME,

Everything is a blur of action and confusion while you get into the medium. Tavros is true to his word of helping you, and proves more competent than you would have thought (but you're hardly charitable with most people). It's almost a relief to slaughter the little imps, even if some of them have disturbingly goat-like features. 

It's only in a quiet moment, enemies dead, in the quiet of this place called the Medium, that you get a chance to breathe again, and everything tries to come rushing back. But then he's there, small and strange and ethereal, but he bleats and you _know_ it's still him. 

So right there, in the Land of Lamps and Coves, you cling to your lusus-turned-sprite and don't even try to deny that you cry. 

**== > Be future Rhys **

You're not. Nothing's left now, not even you. Seconds tick down to annihilation and the threads are a tangle. John's dead. _Dead_ deAdDeaDdeadDEAD. Damn them FOR killing John. Damn you for not STOPPING them. Damn Dave. Damn the whole FUCKING UNIVERSE. So you did. You are. Damnation. Destruction. Death wrapped in thread. You killed them all. Plundered every planet. Murdered every monster. Crushed every carapace. SHHH, DON'T CRY. ONLY DEATH NOW. 

But not Dave. He had a plan. A plan for John. But he's gone now. Nothing's left. Not even you. Just DEATH. But you have a plan. Write the words. Pull the thread. Unravel. Unravel. UNRAVEL. The universe will die now. And so will you. Tick. Tock. 

TICK.

TOCK.

 

tick

 

tock

 

 

youceaseandhopeyoullseehimsafeinheavenbeforetheysendyoutohell

**== > Rhys: wake up **

You wake. This isn't your room. Well, it is, but it isn't. You don't own any clothes quite this shade of purple, for one, and you have been in the habit for years of screenprinting musical notes on your shirts as a kind of a symbol (you're not entirely sure why, but your friends apparently do too, just without the hand printing). The crescent moon is kind of nice, but it's not you. You can only conclude that you're dreaming. 

Dreaming of painting in your sleep again, apparently, from the smears all over. Your fingers are sore, and as you look you realize some of your nails (tough little bastards, your nails. Keeping them trimmed takes industrial strength tools) are torn right off. A closer look at the walls makes you feel vaguely worried. That indigo is your blood and that alone isn't very encouraging. Along with the words is a musical score, though calling it that is an insult to any kind of music. Just the notes d, e, a, and d flat repeated over and over in some pattern that makes no musical sense. 

To say you're uncomfortable with all of this is the understatement of the year, but you know from experience that nothing will do will wake you up. At least the only blood this time is your own, and there's no scenes of ripping and tearing and slaughter dancing in your head. Might as well spend the time trying to figure out what the words say, as unsteady and confused as they look, scrawled over every surface. You can't find a beginning so you just pick a line and dive right in, picking your way through the words, one by one. 

Oh. 

Oh god. 

This isn't a dream; it's a fucking nightmare. John--

John _can't_ be-- God no, John. No, he can't. No. NO. NONONO. Each word is a stab of terror, a rope wrapping around your throat and strangling. It cuts through you like knives, and you can almost see yourself coming apart at seems, dripping indigo all over. Splattering it all over. Screaming, crying. No. John, no. Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh no. God-- You have to wake up. Wake up right _now_. Wake up. _Wake up_.

WAKE UP. 

WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP

wake up

 

wake

**== > Rhys: wake**

The scream is fading when you bolt right up to your feet. But your feet tangle in the sheets and you go down heavily, banging your horn against the bedpost. The very late afternoon light slips in through your heavy curtains, because you've never completely kicked the urge to sleep during daylight and be awake at night. You're head is going to _hurt_ later, and you can feel something slick sliding down over your ear. Probably blood, but there's something more important that you need to do right now. 

Indigo drips down on the keyboard as you scramble to the desk and fire up Pesterchum. John's online. 

He's not--

He's still here. He's--

tempestuousTransplant [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TT: & ## 5/8 JOHN. John are YOU there?  
TT: & ## John, IF you're there please ANSWER me.   
TT: & ## I need TO KNOW if you're OKAY. So say SOMETHING.  
TT: & ## Please.  
EB: i'm here!   
EB: rhys, what's wrong? you're really freaking me out. :(   
TT: & ## I'm okay.   
TT: & ## Just the nightmares.  
EB: you really suck at lying, you know.   
EB: what was this one about?   
TT: & ## I dreamed I was in a room that was mine, but not.  
TT: & ## And that you were dead, and that I was LEAVING messages TO myself but I couldn't STOP it.  
TT: & ## NOTHING could stop it and I was TRYING and TRYING AND TRYING but I was running out of BLOOD and my fingers were down to the BONES.   
TT: & ## The messages WEREN'T getting through.   
EB: oh god damn. i'm sorry. shhhhhhh. i'm here.  
EB: you know what, i'm going to call.   
EB: fuck the thing. my best friend forever is more important.

True to his word, your cell starts ringing a second later and his voice is the best thing you've ever heard. You go to curl up in your pile of pillows and hoodies on the floor and just let his voice wash away everything. But even when he's talked himself out you can't help glancing down at your fingers, half-expecting to see bloody stumps with protruding bones. It felt so _real_ , that strange purple room. 

But John can't stay and talk to you forever, and you know that. For his sake you convince him that you're feeling your normal self again and he hangs up. You pace for a while, and then remember that you're bleeding, but only because some blood drips down your neck. 

The universe won't leave you alone today, apparently, because the moment you decide to go and take care of it, your computer chimes. Who is it now? 

centaursTesticle [CT] has begun pestering tempestuousTransplant [TT]

CT: D--> Highb100d, good evening  
CT: D--> You seem e%eptionally distressed and that lu%urious color  
CT: D--> Oh dear   
TT: & ## 5/8 Oh my GOD, FUCK off.  
TT: & ## NOT fucking YOU. I can't deal with your fucking SHIT today.   
CT: D--> Please stop using that 100d language  
CT: D--> It's unbecoming of your high status  
CT: D--> My solemn and honorable duty is to assist in your instru%ion   
TT: & ## You've done THIS every day for WEEKS.  
TT: & ## Don't you GET that I DON'T believe YOU.   
TT: & ## FINE. I'll PLAY along.   
TT: & ## If you want me to act ALL royal, I'll GIVE you a fucking ORDER.  
TT: & ## Leave me THE fuck ALONE.  
TT: & ## I blocked you. I don't want to TALK to you ever AGAIN.   
CT: D--> Oh  
CT: D--> Oh my  
CT: D--> That was  
CT: D--> That was e%quisit  
CT: D--> I will respectfully leave you now, highb100d

He actually does leave and you block him for good measure, but somehow you'll know he'll be back tomorrow. You're starting to think he's the absolute worst of them all, even worse than the teal one that threatens to kill you. You just can't deal with any of this right now and go to curl up on your pile, hoping futilely for a dream-free sleep.


	4. Observe Confrontations

**== > Varrai: confront trolls **

This isn't something you are looking forward to, but confrontations will be necessary. Tavros has been busy getting into the game and hasn't contacted you since your own entrance. You appreciate the time to reunite with your lusus and get your bearings with the game mechanics, but the time for putting things off is over. So, now that you've successfully completed all the quests available at you level, you've fixed up your makeup and made your way through your second gate. His world is quite pleasant, actually, but you can't waste time with the scenery. 

You are currently engaging in a little preemptive information gathering to ascertain the situation. You have no plans on being seen by Tavros's server player, even with hornband on and hood up. If your makeup should smear, or your gloves come off, or your hood get caught on something, the ruse would be up, and Tavros knowing is bad enough. You're fairly confident that he will recognize the wisdom of keeping you as an ally, but it's impossible to be one hundred percent certain. Vriska, on the other hand... She's a huge bitch (more than you are, even, and that's an impressive feat), and you're sure that someday she'll push Tavros into being the death of her. Or she'll be the death of him, which you hope doesn't happen, because he's far more palatable as a companion. But she's been up to her usual tormenting of him. You can see that his hive was built up entirely with stairs, and you wouldn't do that to him even if he was your worst enemy and you despised him to the deepest platonic depths.

But the stairs might prove to your advantage if things end in a fight. Tavros can't maneuver with stairs, even with what looks like it might be a rocket chair near his alchemeter. Still, with his Commune ability, he could be a very formidable foe if he put his mind to it, and underestimating him could cost dearly. So you don't. Simple as that. He'd be far better as an ally, and you intend to court him as one, no matter what it takes. You just need to play your cards right because you're sure now that it's only a matter of time until the others discover your secrets. Allies are vital in this contest, and you have an eye on Tavros as your second (Karkat being your first, naturally).

Since it looks like Vriska is currently distracted by her own server player and entrance into the game, now may be your only chance to catch Tavros with relatively low chance of being interrupted. He's on less hostile territory now, but soon, if your theories are right, he'll end up going through his second gate and ending up in Vriska's world. The loops this game is fond of creating will cause you no small amount of headaches in your future, you can already tell. 

You steel yourself and trot down the stairs, keeping as far into the harder to view areas as much as you can, just in case. Tavros is currently in the middle of the tedious process of getting into his new rocket chair. You ask if he needs a hand with equal parts snark and sincerity, but hold the smirk to a minimum when he jumps and squeaks. You might be a bitch, but it's important that you tone it down right now, and Tavros doesn't deserve more than a little light-hearted teasing at most. When his surprise fades, he does let you assist him into the chair. Good. Progress. Though he's much taller and half again your weight, it's a disparity you're used to, after dealing with all the seadwellers, so you can manage without too much difficulty. The one thing that startles you is that his skin is warm, not cool like you expected, and once he's settled he's wearing a full brown flush all over his face. It reminds you of the hue of the Golden Dragon Tree's wood (not that you've ever seen it), so named for the toughness of the lumber and the way the bark resembles scales. Immediately you resolve to make the pursued lover in your next epic poem a brown-blood, presicely so you can use that lovely image.

TAVROS: uMM, hI, vARRAI,  
TAVROS: i WASN'T EXPECTING TO SEE YOU, sO SOON,  
VARRAI: Isn't it Better To resoLve thiS now inStead oF havinG an unkNown vaRiable Just waIting tO exploDe in ouR faces?  
VARRAI: Have yoU made yOur decIsion yEt?  
TAVROS: yOU SPEAK LIKE YOU'RE PLANNING A FLARP CAMPAIGN STRATEGY,  
TAVROS: eVEN THOUGH, fLARP ISN'T A THING, tHAT YOU DO,  
TAVROS: bUT, i THINK THAT, i DON'T REALLY WANT YOU AS AN ENEMY,  
TAVROS: sO i WON'T TRY TO HURT YOU, oR ANYTHING, lIKE THAT, jUST BECAUSE OF SOMETHING, yOU CAN'T HELP,  
VARRAI: You're Sure yoU've conSidereD everyThing?  
VARRAI: AllegeNces arEn't to bE taken LightlY.  
TAVROS: yES, yOU'RE RIGHT, aBOUT THAT,  
TAVROS: aND i WON'T TURN ON YOU, oR STAB YOU IN THE BACK, iF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE ASKING,  
TAVROS: bUT, uMM, i ALSO THINK, tHAT IT WON'T BE SECRET, fOR LONG, wITH THE GAME, aND THINGS,  
VARRAI: We'll maKe a strAtegisT out of You yet.  
VARRAI: And you'Re righT, which Makes gAtheriNg alliEs i can Trust vItal foR the inEvitabLe explOsion oF drama And figHting.  
TAVROS: wHICH, uMM, mEANS YOU NEED TO KNOW IF i'LL FIGHT BY YOUR SIDE?  
TAVROS: fIGHTING ISN'T A THING, i'M VERY GOOD AT, eVEN IN FLARP, bUT, mAYBE, i CAN DO OTHER THINGS TO HELP?  
VARRAI: Maybe. sO, is it sEttled Then? alLies?  
TAVROS: uMM, yES,  
TAVROS: lET'S BE ALLIES,

You shake on it, sealing your new alliance. Excellent. One of those on your list of potential allies is now an actual ally, and this one you honestly believe when he says he won't stab you in the back. If only the list weren't so brief. You don't even dare consider either of the actual seadwellers as potential allies, and it would probably be suicidal to approach the blue blood. He's so stuffy and hung up on propriety and caste, that while he'd theoretically be warmer to a land dweller, the fact that you've been presenting your blood as a color other than it is would be sure to incense him beyond measure. Yeah, no, not even going to chance it. You plan on staying as far away from him as possible. It's a shame, though, because if not for his influence, his moirail would be on your list of potential allies too. But it's best to stay away from her, in case he decides to get protective. 

And then the pool is dwindled even more, because Vriska is no one's ally (not even her own, you privately think), and Terezi is interested enough in justice that you're incredibly wary of approaching her. You _are_ breaking several laws just by using that color to type, even if you wear your lusus's color on your shirts and sign. Which... is breaking the law too. You suspect that the only sign you could possibly use without breaking some kind of law is Karkat's, which you wouldn't actually mind, but you don't want to take the sign he worked so hard in the brooding caverns to earn, in spite of being a mutant to be culled on sight. With those two both excluded, the only undecided trolls left that you could approach are Sollux, Aradia, and Kanaya. 

Speaking of Kanaya, it seems that she's trolling you suddenly. You wonder why. Tavros suddenly gets more nervous than his usual when he sees the notification pop up over your hoodietop (a hornband top would have made more sense, but you're wary of altering the horns themselves). It takes a little pressing but he confesses that he asked for advice about what to do, though he swears he didn't mention your name. You consider removing one of his horns in revenge, but decide better of it. Removing horns is a messy business, even when the troll in question is dead, and besides, he'll need that nice rack if he wants to fill his quadrants someday. So instead of a more physical rebuttal you just glare at him until he shrinks back before answering that lovely jade green text. 

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] has started trolling transposedCastigation [TC]

GA: Good Evening Varrai  
GA: While My Client Player Is Occupied I Thought It Fortuitous To Contact You About Some Concerns That Have Come To Light  
GA: Am I Presuming Too Much To Deduce Based On Concerns Of A Mutual Friend That You Do Not Possess The Fins And Gills That Would Be Expected From Your Blood Color  
TC: Tavros Needs tO learn Tact.  
TC: If you wEre corRect, whAt woulD you do With thAt infoRmatioN?  
GA: I Would Hypothetically Caution Such A Person Against Such Flagrant Disrespect Of The Hemospectrum  
GA: On Account Of The Consequences For Such Fraud Being Exceptionally And Painfully High  
GA: And Would Perhaps Think It Wise To Suggest A More Humble Text Color  
GA: A More Humble Sign Color As Well Would Be Prudent As I Can See Through The Viewport On Vriskas Computer  
TC: My sign Color iS the coLor of mY lusus, Okay?  
TC: And my tExt colOr is thE colorS of our Blood mIxed, beCause uSing my NaturaL color iS suiciDal.  
GA: So We Have Dropped The Pretense That We Might Be Discussing Some Other Hypothetical Troll  
GA: I Still Insist That Your Present Colors Are Just As Suicidal As Whichever Color Is Inside Your Veins  
GA: Perhaps A Neutral Gray Such As Another Mutual Friend Uses Would Be More Suitable And Less Suicidal Then  
TC: That's tHe probLem. i'm nOt a troLl.  
TC: I don't kNow whaT i am, buT my bloOd is unNaturaL candy Red.  
TC: And my sKin isn'T the neUtral gRay it sHould bE.  
GA: Oh That Is Most Assuredly Unexpected  
GA: When Tavros First Put Forth The Issue Of Someone Misrepresenting Their Blood Color I Merely Assumed  
GA: I Cannot Fathom How Such an Occurrence Could Come To Be  
TC: WelcomE to the Club.  
TC: I know i'Ll have To admiT it to eVeryonE soon, bUt i'm hoPing to hAve somE trollS on my sIde firSt.  
TC: BecausE some oF our moRe cool Hued acQuaintAnces wOn't see That my ActionS so far Have onLy been To survIve.  
GA: Yes I Can See How That Could Come To Be A Point Of Contention  
GA: But While I Doubt The Wisdom Of Your Color Choices I Understand That Your Species Is Not Something You Can Control  
GA: I Don't Hold That Fact Against You But For Your Own Sake I Must Again Seek Your Cooperation With My Recent Suggestion To Assume A Less Controversial Color  
GA: As Someone Who Quite Enjoys Your Poetic Endeavors As You Also Enjoy My Textile Creations I Implore You To Listen To My Advice  
TC: You're pRobablY right.  
TC: I'll thiNk abouT it, but It's proBably tO late tO stop tHe backLash noW.  
TC: But kanAya? thaNks.  
GA: You're Welcome Varrai  
GA: I Hope To Meet You In Person Soon But Now I'm Afraid My Client Player Needs My Assistance With A Matter  
GA: So Until We Speak Again  
GA: Stay Safe  
TC: You too Kanaya. Until tHen.

You suspect that she's rather pale towards you, which is flattering, but also worrying. You definitely aren't pale in return and you'd hate to lose her as a friend because you can't return pale advances in kind. Perhaps if it wasn't for Karkat (not that you'll admit it, but you've been over this with yourself quite a few times and nothing ever changes), you could return her pale feelings. But, on the good side of things, you now have three staunch allies, and one of them has a knack for mediating, of both the ashen and platonic variety, so there's hope for an outcome that doesn't end with death and murder after all. It is risky, but perhaps you can use Karkat's friendship with Sollux to sway his opinion as well and Aradia...

Well, you'll figure out something to do about Aradia later. You still need more information on her current state before you can start making concrete plans and she's been as elusive as a ghost since Tavros's accident. But your hoodietop is chiming away again. So many trolls, so little time. 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has started trolling transposedCastigation [TC]

CG: WHERE THE NOOKBLISTERING FUCK ARE YOU, VARRAI?  
CG: I FINALLY GET TO YOUR HIVE AND SUDDENLY NOW YOU DECIDE TO GO TRAIPSING OFF LIKE A CAWBEAST AFTER SOMETHING SHINY?  
TC: Isn't it ObviouS that i AdvancEd past The secOnd gatE?  
TC: I'm with Tavros But i'll Take a rEturn nOde bacK to resT.  
CG: OH. RIGHT. WELL, HURRY IT UP, BECAUSE WE CAN'T AFFORD TO REST LONG.  
CG: ALSO, I THINK I MIGHT NEED SOME FUCKING STITCHES.  
TC: What thE fuck dId you dO? neverMind, teLl me whEn i get There.

With a hearty groan of annoyance (mostly for effect), you explain to Tavros that you're heading back to your hive for a while and quickly head towards the nearest return node. You're not worried at all. Really. Not in the fucking least. 

**== > Rhys: sing**

You broke it, so it's up to you to fix it. You're not even really sure how, because you've only used this power a couple times before, but lives are depending on it. You just have to sing and hit all the right chords to a song you don't even know and have never even heard before ever. 

Simple. Easy as breathing. 

 

Fuck. You hope you can manage in time. This would be so much easier if you could take your time and learn how. But you don't have time so you take a breath (wishing for an instrument) and sing. You don't bother with words; it's the notes that are important. 

It opens up a whole new world in front of you that you hear-see-taste fluttering and curling around you. It's breathtaking but you can't falter. You have to sing and find the bad notes so you can sing back the right ones and fix it. The notes are strung along in little melodies, that glitter before your eyes like so many threads and you travel along down through them with your voice and--

There. There's one. That awful, rending disharmony makes you feel sick. You try to sing out something better, paying attention to the melody. There, that sounds-feels-tastes be--

Oh. That's... That's not good. You weren't done. You cough up indigo, but you can't even feel the blade suddenly jutting out of your chest. It could be happening to someone else entirely, for all the effect it has. Maybe it is. It's smeared with other colors too, drenched and dripping. 

...pretty...

**== >Rhys: try to countertroll**

Ugh, what now? You wonder which one it is, and you're tempted to ignore the troll entirely, because you're sure this game is way more serious than any of you thought. John is just messing around with the devices you had to deploy, but you can see that counter coming down and feel the dread rising. It doesn't help that your connection has been cutting out like crazy because of the storm and the meteors and the fire. Well, maybe if you can find a way to troll them back, somehow--

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has started trolling tempestuousTransplant [TT]

CG: I NEED YOU TO LISTEN, YOU COMPLETE IMBECILE, AND DON'T TRY TO BLOCK ME BECAUSE YOU KNOW IT WON'T WORK.  
TT: & bb 4/4 b^I'm on the edge of my seat, awaiting your every word.   
CG: FINALLY, ONE OF YOU GETS IT. GOOD, NOW YOU HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR PROTOTYPINGS. IT'S THE JADE HUMAN'S THAT'S THE WORST BUT CHANGE ALL OF THEM ANYWAY.  
TT: & bb Your wish is my command, benevolent master.  
TT: & bb There's just one problem; I don't know what our prototypings would even #be.#  
TT: & bb Being that they happen in the future and all, and I'm not a psychic or anything.  
TT: & bb I really want to blindly follow your advice. I'm sure you only have my best interests at heart, oh stranger that's part of a group that's been mercilessly tormenting me for months now.  
TT: & ## 5/8 So since I'm not privy to the future I'll surely fail. Look, I even changed my key signature to show how utterly crushed I am about this.  
CG: YOU AREN'T BEING SERIOUS, ARE YOU?  
CG: OH MY GOD, YOU'RE JUST AS FUCKING STUPID AS THE HUMANS.  
CG: I THOUGHT YOU HAD A WORKING THOUGHT-SPONGE BECAUSE SOMEHOW YOU GOT VARRAI TO CALM DOWN. BUT NO, YOU'RE JUST BEING A WORTHLESS IGNORAMUS LIKE THE REST.  
TT: & bb 4/4 Wow, give the man a prize.^b Of course I was being sarcastic. Did you honestly expect me to suddenly change my tune?  
TT: & bb And who the fuck is Varrai?  
CG: AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING STUPID MUSICAL REFERENCES. UGH, I HATE YOU.  
CG: NONE OF YOU GET IT. YOU'RE DOOMING YOUR OWN SESSION WITH THIS SHIT TOO.  
CG: AND FUCK. OF COURSE I WOULD MISS THE TIMING LIKE A PATHETIC WIGGLER THAT HAS TO BE TOLD WHEN TO DO EVERYTHING BY ITS LUSUS. YOU HAVEN'T TALKED WITH HER YET.  
CG: I'LL BE BACK IN A FEW MINUTES. IT'S WORTHLESS TO TRY TO TALK TO YOU NOW.  
TT: & bb You're the best troll. It's you.  
TT: & bb What, you're not even going to give me some sign that will convince me it's your so called friend from the past when she contacts me so I can "calm her down?"  
CG: WHAT'S THE POINT? IT WILL ONLY MAKE YOU EVEN MORE SUSPICIOUS.  
CG: I'D PASTE THE FUCKING LOG IF I HAD IT, BUT SHE'S IN WITHDRAWAL FROM THE SOPOR AND HIDING SOMEWHERE FROM THE FUCKING ROTPAN HALLUCINATIONS.  
CG: WHATEVER. I'M NOT GOING TO ARGUE THIS. I NEED TO GO FIND HER BEFORE SHE ACCIDENTALLY KILLS SOMEONE THINKING THEY'RE OUT TO MURDER HER.

And he's gone just like that. You want to scoff, but the mention of soporifics (is it so hard to finish the damn word?) and hallucinations makes you pause. They put you on very heavy sedatives once because of the constant violent nightmares, and the drugs reacted with your biochemestry in a bad way after about a month of actually working. Your body had metabolized it oddly, and the poisonous byproducts built up in your tissues and nearly caused multiple organ failures. There hadn't been time to ween you off slowly, like is supposed to happen, and the therapeutic dose had been high enough that you'd formed a dependence. That's all in the laboratory's records. What _isn't_ , though, is that your withdrawal was accompanied by psychosis and hallucinations. You don't know why, but your Mom only reported the physical symptoms (which had been bad enough), and not the psychological ones. You suspect it's because you're unstable to begin with, and sure that the laboratory has been looking for an excuse to take you out of her care and keep you in the facility full time. You're still pondering that creepy coincidence when your pesterchum flashes. It's a handle that has never contacted you before. 

transposedCastigation [TC] has started trolling tempestuousTransplant [TT]

TC: I hatE you Hate You StolE it yOu SToLE mY lifE  
TT: & bb 4/4 CG is that you? Just changing your handle and typing doesn't really work if you don't change the #color.#  
TC: No noT karKat mE varRai iS me  
TC: We haVe to Hide The cOlorS bad TheyrE comIng tO kil  
TC: ThieF you StolE it  
TC: I shoUld bE theRe wiTh yoUr luSus  
TC: Shes Mine  
TT: & ## 5/8 Congratulations. You're pulling off unhinged really well.  
TT: & ## You can stop now. I'm not going to fall for this.  
TC: Give Me baCk my LusuS you Have His hOrns  
TC: She hAs alL my cOlorS sheS minE  
TC: Not yOurs YourE indIgo  
TC: Give Your Sign Back Just Give Me my Life Back  
TT: & ## Stop it. Seriously.  
TC: PleaSe yoUre nOt piNk im Pink  
TC: Give It baCk thEyre ComiNg it HurtS  
TC: I donT wanT to dIe  
TC: EverYthiNg huRts

tempestuousTransplant [TT] has blocked transposedCastigation [TC]

TC: Dont  
TC: Dont LeavE theYre cOminG for You tOo  
TC: Big aNd hoRns aNd puRple And bLue  
TC: Cull Us foR the WronG colOrs  
TC: SwitCh to Make The cOlorS rigHt agAin  
TT: & ## Fuck. Okay. OKAY. Let's say I believe YOU.  
TT: & ## And you're IN withdrawal and we're SWITCHED or something.  
TT: & ## You have TO calm DOWN.  
TT: & ## Close YOUR eyes.  
TT: & ## IF you can STILL SEE THEM they're a hallucination.  
TT: & ## They're NOT real. They're not. They're just A memory.  
TC: Oh i cAn stIll  
TC: Yes mEmorY i geT it  
TC: But yOu stIll sTole It  
TC: Give It baCk  
TT: & ## I wish I could but I DON'T know how.  
TT: & ## Where  
TT: & ## Nevermind. Go find your Karkat. Maybe he knows where you are.  
TC: Yes i Need KarkAt he Can fIx it  
TC: Make It beTter  
TC: I havE to gO but Ill bE bacK and Well SwitCh

You close your eyes, trying to still the shaking. You don't know why but suddenly it's like you're back there, hiding in the laboratory and watching the big white and blue monsters come to drag you away. You don't even know what they are but it's a nightmare that's haunted your dreams and hallucinations for as long as you can remember. All you know is that it's still terrifying, and the white monsters weren't even the scariest. The things behind them were, and all you ever see of them in your nightmares is a dark silhouette with lots of spikey horns.

The only consolation is that sometimes in your dreams Mom shows up as a giant and picks you up to hold you against her chest while she scares all the monsters away and makes you safe. It's just so much harder to be comforted by that when you're awake...

\--Fuck. CG is back. 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has started trolling tempestuousTransplant [TT]

CG: YOU SHOULD HAVE FINISHED TALKING TO VARRAI BY NOW.  
TT: & ## 5/8 Look. I'll do it. I'll tell the others to change their prototypings.  
TT: & ## It's too late for John's but I'll just  
TT: & ## I'll do it. Now leave me alone.  
CG: WAIT. I NEED TO TELL YOU

You don't even catch the rest of that line as you shut your laptop off. The smoke is starting to sting your eyes and nose. You need to get somewhere safer than Jasper's mausoleum and fast, before the flames start overtaking everything. You hope John is okay. You don't have the time to spare to check on him right now.


End file.
